


Smooth

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Kissing, Language, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Kissing, Sensuality, Song Lyrics, Song fic, t6ksongfic, tilltheendwilliwrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and the lack of air conditioning within the compound is taking its toll on everyone, Clint included.





	Smooth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tilltheendwilliwrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/gifts).



“What do you mean, the air conditioning is broken?” Clint ground out, the coffee cup in his hand shaking slightly. 

Tony swiped a hand over his sweat-dampened face. “It’s broken. Busted. Not working. Caput. Finito. Don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I want you to say that it’ll be fixed in five minutes,” Clint informed Tony. “It’s almost a hundred out there.”

“Fuck that,” you snapped. “It’s over a hundred and ten in  _ here. _ ”

“Can’t do that,” Tony informed the pair of you. “Sorry.”

“You’re Tony Stark,” Clint snarled in sarcasm. “You can fix  _ anything _ .”

“I’ve tried, FRIDAY’s ran a diagnostic. Hell, Bruce even got in there to see if he could figure it out.”

Clint’s eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head. “Fuckin’ unbelievable. Got some of the smartest people in the  _ world, _ and they can’t fuckin’ fix it.”

You glared at Tony as sweat rolled down the back of your neck. “Please tell me I can use the pool.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s the only thing that’s temperature controlled right now.”

“Sweet Jesus,” you all but sob, ripping open the front of Clint’s button up shirt you had been wearing over your bikini top. 

Tony’s eyes go wide the second before, and Clint is about to lose his shit, but then they see the red, white, and blue stripes of your bikini. 

“What? You guys didn’t really think I’d… whatever. I’m goin’ for a swim.” You patted Tony’s shoulder on the way by.

“You bastard,” Clint gruffed. 

Tony had the nerve to act offended. “Wait, what did I do?”

Clint snorted and finished his coffee. “You weren’t gonna tell us about the pool. You were gonna keep it for yourself.”

“I… well, I mean,” Tony stammered. 

“Whatever, Stark.” Clint disposed of his coffee mug in the sink and strode after you, trying hard to ignore the way your hips were swaying. 

You covered your eyes, protecting them from the midday sun as you emerged from the door on the roof. “Jesus, it’s like being seven inches from the sun.”

Clint hummed in agreement. “Thank God the pool is in the shade.”

“And temperature controlled,” you mumbled, pushing buttons on the control panel, turning the temperature down into the sixties. 

With a smirk, you kicked off the flip flops and shimmed out of the shorts. While Clint turned on some music, you dove into the cool water, barely suppressing a moan as you surfaced. 

_ My muñequita, my Spanish Harlem, Mona Lisa _ _   
_ _ You're my reason for reason _ _   
_ _ The step in my groove _ _   
_ _ And if you said this life ain't good enough _ _   
_ _ I would give my world to lift you up _ _   
_ _ I could change my life to better suit your mood _ _   
_ __ Because you're so smooth

Clint jumped in, legs tucked up to his chest, a shout bursting out of him before he cannon-balled into the water. If it hadn’t have been so goddamn hot, you’d have complained as water rained down on you. Instead, you relished in it, closed your eyes and hummed in appreciation.

He surfaced with a gasp and ran his fingers through his hair. “God, it feels like Heaven.”

You were treading water, watching him with water dripping off your lashes. The two of you had been flirting back and forth for a while now. You’d watch Netflix late at night, legs draped over his, his hands on your calves, calluses scraping back and forth. There were times you would catch him watching you, eyes roving over your curves while his pupils flexed with lust. You did the same, appreciating the way his thick muscles rippled under his sun-kissed skin.  _ Many _ innuendoes were shared, always followed up with a snarky comeback or two, most of them fueled by the whiskey you shared. But that was as far as anything ever went. 

_ And it's just like the ocean under the moon _ _   
_ _ Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you _ _   
_ _ You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah _ _   
_ __ Give me your heart, make it real or else forget about it

“What’cha thinkin’, Barton?” you purred, swimming closer, staying  _ just _ out of reach. 

“How good you look,” he answered honestly. 

“And how’s that?” 

Clint spun, following you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Good enough to eat.”

_ You hear my rhythm on your radio _ _   
_ _ You feel the turning of the world, so soft and slow _ _   
_ _ It's turning you round and round _ _   
_ _ And if you said this life ain't good enough _ _   
_ _ I would give my world to lift you up _ _   
_ _ I could change my life to better suit your mood _ _   
_ __ Because you're so smooth

You moved closer, still circling him, humming to the music pouring from the speakers. His hands shot out and grabbed your hips, pulling you against him, lips a breadth away. He lead you over to the wall, not focusing on just how fast he was moving.

_ And it's just like the ocean under the moon _ _   
_ _ Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you _ _   
_ _ You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah _ _   
_ __ Give me your heart, make it real or else forget about it

Your head hit the wall, making you wince. “Smooth, Barton,” you gasped, legs curling around his waist, nails scraping over his shoulders.

“What d’ya say we stop pussyfootin’ around and make this real?” Clint gruffed, pupils rapidly consuming his mossy iris. 

“I thought you liked pussy-” Clint’s mouth was on yours, tongue pushing between your lips, stealing the air from your lungs. 

He pinned you to the wall with his hips, swallowing the shameless moans that were spilling out of you. Your hand was in his hair and you were clinging to his wide shoulders, nails digging into his skin. When he pulled back, the air was tearing in and out of you, rapidly heating the air in the minimal space between you and Clint.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Clint purred. “You’re going to find out just how true that statement is.” 


End file.
